


Scars

by 4376111



Series: Technicalities of the Term 'First Mate' [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Also the saddest too, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of past violence+ abuse, Not a Sad Fic, Protective Zoro is the best Zoro, Thriller Bark, description of injury, headcanons, liberal use of parentheses, what even is formatting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8392855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4376111/pseuds/4376111
Summary: Their pain was Luffy's pain, now Zoro just felt it too. A lil ficlet on why the Mugiwaras lack several battle scars.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, I have no idea what it is with me and parentheses.  
> Anyway... I don't own One Piece, nor do I own nearly enough money for all the freaking awesome journals that I would buy if I suddenly found myself as a responsible adult.

When Bartholomew Kuma stood before him with an offer, Zoro had gladly accepted.

He would never regret it.

Not even when his shoulder aches with stab wounds that never happened (though on a small island in the East Blue, full of tangerines and smiling people, they did).

Not when his fingers crack at every winter island, bending to the biting wind as if they knew the pain of true frostbite. (They didn't but Robin's did). The raw peeling feels worse than the gentle nips that grace the stitching around his feet.  
Screaming shoulders are all that support his dignity when the icy air drags out the pale gouges from his arms. The criss-cross design is too similar to their captain's chest.

Robin helps him hide his arms when the cold comes, and she's not smiling that half smile of hers when his sleeves ride up with a particularly large stretch.

(Though not even Sanji would make fun of him for this, he still feels ashamed at the comfort provided by the ironic reindeer sweater that rests along his shoulders).

The cook may respect the ladies, but his hands are too important to mar beyond the faded scratches that trail along Zoro's thumbs. He could feed them anything and make it taste good, but lies never sit well on the counter of the galley.

(Even when they were simmered in fine wine and served with a side dish that he couldn't even hope to pronounce). 

The lies don’t try and settle down either.

Not even on the longest of nights.

Though his legs shimmer with the glossy shine of burns, the warmth of the galley is nice.

They were Zoro's legs, not Sanji's, but Sanji had stood on those scars for years.

(He had stood on them at Thriller Bark too, just not for very long).

Without looking closely, it's hard to tell when the flames become lightning. Even on stormy nights like this, when the purple lines chase Zoro's heaving chest with vivid color, (and he really should be out on watch), he can't find the will to care. The candle on the table licks the sky, but Zoro has better things to do than to lick his (nakama’s) wounds.

No, really, he should be on watch.

It’s okay though.

Nami is out there, doing her job.

Usopp is watching with keen eyes (and really that boy should seem close to dead, based on the gruesome collage that lights up across the whole of Zoro's body whenever the kid opens his mouth for a story).

“Everything is okay now”, the cook tells him, with a cup of something warm.

Zoro replies that he doesn’t need reassurance.

Sanji doesn’t mention the ‘so long as nobody questions the scratched out '66' on their right thighs’.

Zoro doesn’t say that; ‘yes, he really does need the reassurance, and another cup of whatever this is would be nice’.

They already know.

The scar is faded and flickering out of existence, but still harsh enough to give the swordsman an idea of it's original depth.

Sanji hums and brings him some tea, spilling none under shaking hands and the unsteady rocking of Sunny fighting a storm.

It's not his business, he decides. Though Luffy still ought to know.

The other agrees.

The tea tickles Zoro’s tongue the same way that faint burns tint the edges of his hands every night after dinner. It's a clockwork of melding flesh, and really, the longnose has been scarred more than any of them.

By the time the storm calms, he’s stopped wondering whose lightning scars are whose, content to run a finger over the webs of color. They no longer taint his nakama's skin.

You can't fight back to back with a crew like theirs and spook every time Nami swirls a stick or Chopper claps his hooves. There’s nothing to fear in a bit of light.

They were marks of bravery, but they ached whenever he woke up.

It hurts less while he falls asleep.

There are stretch marks that dance in the sunlight. They shimmer and roll like ocean currents, ricocheting across his entire body whilst he naps. They were his tiger stripes, he tells Chopper during the fifth examination. Three bullet wounds along his back never did anything to cage a beast. Scars on the back are a swordsman's greatest shame, but the little reindeer is not a swordsman.

Besides, his nakama come before his pride.

Neither of them were monsters anyway.

Monsters couldn't curl up in the designated Napping Position™ the way that they did. The doctor’s heartbeat is soft, but it's there. He feels in through his own important scar, bared to the world in his new attire.

They’re all there.

He listens to the gentle thrumming whenever it’s hard to sleep.

On nights that seem to catch in the air like the words on their tongues, they’ll find peaceful gatherings in the soft grass of the Sunny, (home).

Sometimes it's hard to breathe. He wakes up many nights, choking on his lungs. There's a crater in his stomach, usually it's when it's dark, and he doesn't ask. He knows it's not Luffy's. (Robin's been wearing more crop-tops lately).  
When Nami drags him out with the girls, assigning him as designated shopping bag carrier, he doesn’t complain about the bags with new shirts. Most of them at least.

Honestly, why would the witch even need this many clothes in the first place? It's not like she even wears any. The bump on his head is gentler than usual, but he still scowls. He was joking! Seriously!

(He’s proud of that tattoo across her shoulder and the flawless skin of two freed wrists).

He doesn't need any more debt either.

He needs a drink though.

Maybe more than one.

Okay, definitely more than one.

Not cola though, no matter how many times he wakes up and feels off.

Those times when he feels afraid to move. He shouldn’t feel fear like this, but it’s hard.

It’s so hard to breathe _(in, out, in, out, steady, not shallow)_.

Gasping wheezes grace the days when it feels almost as if he’s not made of himself anymore.

It hurts in vivid sparks, in solid pressure, bearing down right on his clavicle, barely below his skin.

(Chopper started giving Franky painkillers every time he mentions upgrades).

The fizz of cola unwinds the knots in his back and the imaginary stitching along his dermal layer, but the humming in his arms only intensifies.

Those days come without warning, and rarely are they the same.

On the other hand, Brook's scars feel dull, as if they no longer have anywhere to exist. The numbness chills his very bones and he's too young (too alive) to be making skull jokes.

There’s blood in his veins, he’s bled out enough times, he ought to know.

_(What if it was too much blood, splattered across the pit in that godforsaken place?)  
_

There’re nerves tangling through his frame, but they only serve as a reminder.

It hurts.

It hurts so much.

(There had been a face with a blurry complexion and blurrier words, a _“Deal with it, be a man”,_ haunting a dream one night. Zoro hadn’t remembered enough to care.)

He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Trailing tickles of pain dance inconsistently, forgetful of their exact placement. They often appear just to disappear within seconds.

Brook doesn't mention the line that curls across Zoro's forehead whenever 'Bink's Sake' is played. The musician bore witness to Thriller Bark after all, and Zoro himself would have been unaware of the scar, had it not itched more often than not.

It got better after two years anyway.

It’s rare, but sometimes he feels pain from outside of the ship.

(Needles across his wrist like an X, the feeling of falling completely apart, only to be replaced with searing warmth, and others he could barely identify).

There had been a brother on Dressrosa but their encounter had been mostly pain and difficulty seeing. The red sun was peeking from his chest that day, and the girl halfway across the island was important. He didn't know why.

His scar did.

He had scowled.

Truthfully, He didn't mind any of them.

Not even when Mihawk had been staring at the the appearance of an assorted amount of bruises before their daily training had even started.

He could take the pain of his nakama without regret.

(It was a first mate's job after all).

The pain of a crew was the pain of a captain, and the little line under a big eye never made an attempt on the eye of the swordsman. He couldn't just steal his captain's signature look anyways.

(Luffy said that Zoro’s eye was scarred enough).

It was still hard to remember to live.

_(Heartbeat… ok, breathing… ok, function body, c’mon)_

It was hard to blink the sand from his eyes when everything was made of melancholy pain.

Everything, that is, except for where he wanted it to hurt the most.

(The captain already had one scar too many, crossing his chest with an X and the crew's regrets).

"Bring it on world," he screamed at the sea, lucid, fever-rage, roiling in his gut

"Bring it on world," he mumbled after the fever (and a couple of chairs) broke.

_Bring it on._

**Author's Note:**

> So... I know there are a few inconsistencies, but it's late-ish and my brain stopped working.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed my second meager offering to this world-wide-wonder-of-One-Piece (try saying that ten times fast).
> 
> Comments/Reviews of any relevant sort are greatly appreciated!!! (i mean some irrelevant things are great to but i just didnt want to encourage someone to insult my mother or something)


End file.
